Chapter Text
House Stark
House Arryn and House Mooton
The Vale Succession Dispute
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Sixth Moon, 130 AC
The Dowager Lady of Winter
“Thank you for your hospitality Sister, Nephews. It was good to see you again after so long but alas, the time has come for us to part ways once again,” her elder brother said regretfully.
“You can always stay a little longer Uncle,” her elder son Cregan said.
Her younger son, Corwyn, and her nephews, Vaemond’s boys, Daemion and Alyn, looked approving of the idea but her brother rejected it. “I thank you for the offer nephew, but it is a long ride to White Harbor and an even longer journey by ship back to Tyrosh. Still it was good seeing you, all of you, and I hope to see you again soon,” her brother said genially.
Final farewells were exchanged between the families before her brother and his wife and children and young grandchildren all mounted their horses or entered their wheelhouse and departed.
Once they were out of the gates, her son’s warm and welcoming demeanor became calculating. Cregan’s sapphire blue eyes which he shared with her and Vaemond had been warm and welcoming as he had made the offer to stay longer to his uncle but Vaella knew her son enough to know that he was wary of his uncle’s presence.
Her son had had a rather bad experience with uncles in general and his uncle on his father’s side, her goodbrother Bennard, had been a thorn in their side for a long time ever since her husband Rickon had passed. Bennard and his brood of three sons with Margaret Karstark had long since left to live in Karhold or their port of Wrensgrace and they were well aware that any sign of weakness would see House Karstark move to seat them in Winterfell.
And while she was glad to see Vaemond, Vaella was well aware that her brother had his own ulterior motives for this family reunion, even if they were far less sinister than Bennard’s were; he had been sent by their cousin Jacaerys to find out where they stood.
She couldn’t truly blame either her brother or her cousin. The entire realm was aware of how close to the brink the situation had become. It had been forty years of near constant deterioration in the relations between Houses Targaryen and Velaryon and with how outspoken and brash the heirs of both houses were, many had come to the realization that war was inevitable, imminent even.
King Aemon was not a young man and he had aged into frailty and impotence. He no longer had the strength to keep the peace and when he died, war would come, a war between dragonriders. Already, whispers were starting to reach even their ears in Winterfell of escalating tensions and skirmishes in the Summer Isles between traders and ships of the South Sea Company and of House Velaryon.
No doubt Uncle Corlys and Cousin Jacaerys sought to ascertain where she and House Stark would stand in this war and with their mother’s passing a few years earlier, may her soul rest in peace in the seven heavens, her elder brother Vaemond had been the best choice they had.
It was a very clever play, Vaella would not deny that. Vaemond was a powerful reminder of the kinship they shared with House Velaryon and it seemed her brother’s own tongue was no less silver than hers as he eloquently retold stories of their youth on Driftmark to her sons and spoke kindly of their father Rhaekar and bitterly about his death, a death that both of them had always squarely laid the blame for on House Targaryen.
It was tempting, very tempting to take the chance to finally revenge herself on House Targaryen and their role in causing her father’s death… but she wasn’t a Velaryon anymore. She hadn’t been for thirty years. She was a Stark now, and she had to look out for her own family’s interests.
In truth, after thirty years living in the North, House Velaryon seemed almost like strangers to her. Driftmark had been all but abandoned for Tyrosh and the new Triarchy, none of which she had ever cared for and she had always hated the city of Tyrosh for being the place her father had died. Her mother was dead of old age, as were Uncle Aurane and Aunt Alys. She had been close to Uncle Corlys and Aunt Viserra once but the long years they had spent in Tyrosh had changed them and deep in her heart she had always felt the slightest thread of resentment that her father had died because of their orders.
Vaella had never been very close to her cousins either, neither Uncle Corlys or Uncle Aurane’s children. They had all spent their early childhoods in Tyrosh and by the time her uncles had returned from that blasted city, she had been betrothed and promptly married off the same year. She had spent barely any time with them unlike Vaemond and she had been isolated in the remote North and had hardly seen her Velaryon kin apart from weddings and funerals for the past thirty years.
Frankly, while she wished no ill will on the rest of House Velaryon and deep down she was still proud to be a scion of that house, she no longer held any true loyalty for them either. They had been strong allies once but House Stark and House Velaryon had drifted apart in the past decade and a half and they had to determine if those distant ties of kinship were worth the risks allying with them again would entail.
It wasn’t even her place to decide anything frankly. She was only the Dowager Lady of Winterfell. Her son Cregan ruled not her, she could only advise him. And Vaella knew that Cregan looked out for House Stark first and foremost. It was why he had arranged his sister Irina’s marriage to Aelor Arryn-Mooton, the heir of the Vale after his mother Lady Aemma.
Cregan himself had her sapphire blue eyes but his father’s dark hair, look, and build. Corwyn was built similarly but had her hair and his father’s grey eyes. And Sara her youngest was all Stark in every way. But Irina, of all of her children, Irina looked the most like Vaella herself, the most Valyrian some might argue, with flawless pale skin, golden blonde hair, and sapphire blue eyes.
Perhaps it was those looks alongside her pedigree and relation to the Lord of Winterfell that had convinced the Arryn-Mootons to present their suit. There were rumors that they were trying to keep as much dragonblood as they could so they would have the ability to claim and ride dragons if the option presented itself in the future. Certainly with their elder son’s marriage to her daughter and the younger son’s marriage to Lord Qoherys’ daughter, they had managed to find some clever marriages that would serve not only to maintain or strengthen their Valyrian blood but also increase their own power with prestigious and advantageous alliances.
Aelor Arryn-Mooton, or simply Aelor Arryn as he would be known when he ascended the Weirwood Throne, was a perfect match for her daughter Irina in almost every conceivable way. He was the heir to the Vale and the grandson of two Targaryen princesses. His younger brother Aelyx Mooton was the heir of Maidenpool and was wed to Lord Qoherys’ daughter. It was a fine alliance that Cregan had made accepting Aelor’s suit for Irina’s hand. Yet it was also one that threatened to set them against her maiden house.
Even in the North they were well aware of the troubles the Arryns and Mootons had with the Royces, the Graftons, and the Celtigars. All three of them strong Velaryon allies and strong rivals of the Eyrie and Maidenpool, especially with the Royces, the Royce-Arryns as they styled themselves, having the male claim to the Eyrie itself once Lord Jasper Arryn passed away.
The Arryn-Mootons’ kinship with the Targaryens and rivalry with Velaryon allies threatened to pull House Stark into any future war firmly on the side of House Targaryen with Irina’s marriage and she had a feeling that that was why her brother had been sent to Winterfell.
Yet at the same time, she doubted her son had any true love for the Targaryens either. None of the North really did. Jaehaerys and Alysanne were long dead and the love the smallfolk had for them was not necessarily extended to their heirs if said heirs did not continue their predecessors’ work. And even with King Aemon returning the New Gift, the northern lords had never liked the Targaryens after they had taken it to begin with or barred them the right to the first night which had not been restored.
As a result of all of this, Winterfell, not King’s Landing, continued to be seen as the rightful rulers of the North, especially with the latter’s occasional bouts of tyranny. Not to mention, the Iron Throne was usually so lax and so far away it’s hold over the North was nominal at best most of the time. If it wasn’t for dragons, it might not even be that.
Trade and investments from the Western Bloc and the Velaryons and their Narrow Sea League had greatly enriched the North, causing a great boom in its population and infrastructure with advancements and expansions in trade and technology. The credit for much of this prosperity had been laid at the feet of House Stark, greatly increasing their already strong position in the kingdom with the love and popular support of the people. If it wasn’t for the Targaryen dragons, they could easily declare independence and be much stronger than they had been before the Conquest.
However, they had also found that prosperity might be a double-edged sword. Vaella had never understood why the Kings in the North of old had allowed House Manderly to control the mouth of the White Knife and build a city there to become the richest house in the North. Was it not an obvious threat to their power? And now with the success of the new ports and technologies and the ever expanding trade, it felt like they had to deal with a dozen House Manderlys instead of just one.
Houses Umber, Karstark, Bolton, Hornwood, Locke, Manderly, Flint (both branches), Ryswell, Dustin, and even the Glovers, Mormonts, and Tallharts to a lesser degree had thrived as a result of the investments, trade, and new technologies. So too did House Stark, both from applying those technologies to their own lands and the vast increase in the tax revenue, but it was beginning to feel that several of their vassals who had direct ports on the sea were starting to grow in wealth and power faster than they were and that was very dangerous.
The Starks might be the historic overlords of the North and hold the traditional loyalty of its people and lords but history had also taught them that ambition and power had a way of corrupting many supposedly loyal vassals. For decades the Manderlys had been under Targaryen influence instead of Winterfell’s and it was not impossible to believe that might happen again.
That was not to mention her troublesome goodbrother and his connections to the Karstarks, or the Boltons who had never been truly trusted by House Stark either. At this point most of the others were potentially suspicious as well, growing increasingly strong enough to challenge Winterfell. Each and every one of them could potentially be turned by the Targaryens and if they did not want to be made a paper wolf in their own kingdom, they had to act, and quickly.
That was why they were hurriedly developing their own lands as much as they could, always competing for the latest technologies in order to develop Winterfell’s direct demesne as much as possible. Vaella had helped contribute here, putting some of what she had learned on Driftmark years ago to use helping her son and their house innovate and advance. One idea she was particularly proud to have come up with was ice wine, wine made from grapes left to freeze on the vines in the summer snows to make them sweeter.
The increase in tax revenue from their vassals and their demesne’s ever growing profits had been put to work training and arming their guards and levies to a higher standard than any other house in the North as well as renovating Winterfell to be as grand as possible; even the squat old First Keep had been renovated and was now used for various purposes. Wintertown was also being expanded and they were taking advantage of their proximity to the White Knife to ship goods down to White Harbor for export.
They had also begun work trying to develop another fief of their own at Moat Cailin. They hoped to make it their own port and a trading post by land as well, rebuilding the ancient ruins and expanding its access to the Fever River and building docks and other facilities there as well as renovating and expanding the Causeway and the Kingsroad and making a connecting road to another dock on the shore of the Bite to the east, creating a route that could link the east and west coasts of the North.
Cregan had also had the devious idea to favor the vassals of their vassals as subtly as possible, hoping to undermine the former and turn the latter to their side. If the Targaryens could do it, why not them? In addition, Cregan had married a Manderly, and he had arranged Corwyn’s marriage to a Bolton and Sara’s to Lord Dustin’s son and heir, and was already planning marriages to the Karstarks, Hornwoods, Ryswells, and all the others he could for his and his brother’s children.
It was a delicate web of alliances and marriages and a careful balance of power that they had to strive to maintain. It was part of why Cregan had gone ahead with Irina’s marriage to Aelor Arryn despite her misgivings. The Arryns could relate to their plight of overmighty vassals and their alliance with an external house of equal prestige and status would send a clear message that neither house would stand for the defiance of their vassals. Not to mention, the kinship the Arryns had with the Targaryens might convince them that they were not a threat to them and that might stop them from siding so overtly with their vassals again like they had in the days of Theomore Manderly, though that might be a fool’s hope.
At the same time however, much of the North’s newfound wealth and prosperity, especially on the richer east coast, was dependent on trade and investment from the Triarchy and House Velaryon was still their kin and once their strong ally. It felt like any path they chose they would be betraying someone or putting their house in danger in some way.
What if House Velaryon won and they had lost all favor for not siding with them? What if they threatened Irina and her children’s inheritance by giving the Vale over to the Royce-Arryns? Conversely what if the Targaryens won and they were found to be too sympathetic to the Velaryons and punished for it?
These worries led her to her son’s solar later that day to speak with him, long after her brother and his family had departed Winterfell.
“You know why they came, don’t you?” she asked him as she was admitted into the room.
Cregan nodded. “I do. They did not say it aloud, but it was easy enough to guess.”
“And what is your decision?” Vaella asked curiously and with a bit of worry.
He shook his head. “It’s hard to say,” he said as he got up from his seat and began pacing.
“The war has not even begun and with how volatile and chaotic a conflict between dragonriders would be, it’s impossible say for sure who would win, even if House Targaryen arguably has the advantage for now with many larger dragons. That’s the first concern.
“And the second is, even if House Velaryon wins, what does winning even entail to them? Is it independence? Is it the Iron Throne? If it’s the former we cannot declare for them under any circ*mstances, we will be risking our own heads for little gain. If it’s the latter, they may threaten my sister and her place in the Eyrie by giving the Vale to their Royce-Arryn allies.”
Vaella looked at the map her son had placed on his desk, seeing the enormous expanse of land now known in Westeros as the Velaryon Triarchy. “I think it’s independence they’re after. Driftmark has declined so much and they seem to have abandoned all attachments to Westeros beyond their few remaining allies here.”
Her son looked thoughtful. “Whatever the case, I have little desire to become involved in a war between dragonlords. All I want is for House Stark to prosper and be left well enough alone by these dragons. I think that whether or not the Velaryons declare independence or go for the throne, we will nominally at least declare for House Targaryen at first, no one can fault us for that, but the distances are quite long and dragons fly very fast, the war may be over before our banners can even be mustered. So long as Irina and the rest of us will be safe, we will then just simply comply with whatever peace is decided and kneel to whoever sits on the Iron Throne in King’s Landing and be done with it.”
“Neutrality in all but name then,” Vaella surmised.
Her son nodded. “That would be ideal yes. I just hope that we aren’t forced to commit to either side, the consequences could be dire even if we choose correctly. A war between dragons is no safe place for mere mortals like us.”
“We can only pray.”
Cregan breathed out heavily. “You can pray to your gods Mother, and I’ll pray to mine. Hopefully one listens and keeps us all safe and away from this damn war.”
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The Lady of the Vale
The city of Maidenpool looked beautiful and prosperous as Daella looked out from the openings in the wheelhouse. Daella didn’t like giving Saera any credit for anything but she would begrudgingly admit she had done a good job ruling Maidenpool; the city had flourished under her stewardship.
Only time would tell if that state of affairs would continue under her goodson’s rule. Her goodbrother Lord Jonah Mooton had died tragically from a heart disease a few weeks ago and they were coming to attend his funeral. Her goodson Aegor would be taking up the rule of Maidenpool and since her husband Jasper was thankfully in good health, her daughter Aemma would be merely the Lady Consort of Maidenpool for many more years to come before she took up the rule of the Vale.
Daella turned her attention away from those dark thoughts instead to where her family sat in the wheelhouse. Her daughter Aemma was beside her, her pride and joy, as proud and regal as always. To Aemma’s left sat Aemma’s daughter Aelinor and her two young children with her husband Leowyn Corbray, her daughter’s namesake, the toddling Aemma Corbray and the infant Jaime.
On Daella’s right was the wife of her elder grandson Aelor, Lady Irina, once a Stark of Winterfell and now a member of their proud family. Her own young children with Daella’s grandson fidgeted under their mother’s gaze, Artys, Saera, and Rodrik.
While Daella had nothing against Irina, at times she had to force herself to look past her misgivings. She did still remember that she was the granddaughter of Corlys Velaryon’s younger brother or that her family had been allies of House Velaryon for many years. After all it was that Valyrian pedigree alongside her Valyrian-adjacent appearance and status as the eldest sister of Lord of Winterfell that had seen Aelor pursue her hand. Even now Daella’s family and house remained ambitious, hoping to grow their power and maintain as much Valyrian descent and blood of the dragon as they could so they could one day claim dragons.
While an alliance with the Starks did strengthen their power and lessen the Velaryons’ in turn, she doubted that their ambition to claim dragons would ever succeed. The Targaryens no longer trusted them after Aemma and Aegor had been caught trying and they had become greatly paranoid since that incident, increasing the number of Dragonkeepers and locking up and guarding all the unridden dragons zealously. Her maiden house had become greatly paranoid and cynical in the past few decades.
Ties of kinship or not, she had begun wondering if they would even spare anyone who claimed a dragon after what the Velaryons had done in Essos. Like many in the realm secretly did, Daella now believed that a war between House Targaryen and House Velaryon was imminent. Once Rhaenys took the throne, the two dragonriding houses would go to war, and it was not a war that Daella could foresee her house staying out of.
There was simply too much at stake. Her husband’s nuisance of a nephew Arnold had married Rhea Royce decades ago and their son, Eldric Royce-Arryn, had married Lord Addam Grafton’s eldest daughter, uniting the entire peninsula and the majority of the Vale’s ports under one alliance hostile to her daughter’s ascension to the Weirwood Throne upon her father’s passing.
Lord Addam Grafton’s wife also happened to be Lady Cassandra Celtigar, thus allying Gulltown and Runestone with Claw Isle as well. The same Claw Isle that was Maidenpool’s main rival for trade in the Bay of Crabs. Both the Graftons and the Celtigars were kin to House Velaryon, as were the Royces through the marriage of Rhea Royce’s younger sister to none other than Lady Irina’s uncle Vaemond.
Such a convoluted and complicated web of marriages, alliances, and family ties, but it all boiled down quite simply ultimately. House Arryn and House Mooton were rivals to House Royce, Grafton, and Celtigar who sought to supplant them and all of them had backers in the form of the two main dragonlord houses.
While the Targaryens may be keeping them at a distance now, their interests were still mutually aligned against the Velaryons and their allies and so they had backed them and their rightful claims and positions. They simply didn’t have the choice but to fight for the Targaryens and support them because if the Velaryons won, it could be the end of them if they gave their allies even more power if not the Vale and Maidenpool outright.
In a way, Daella supposed she really couldn’t hold Irina’s heritage against her. It wasn’t like she and her own family were any better, they too were kin to the Velaryons, even if it had been many, many years since they had treated each other as such. And the Targaryens backed them not because they were kin but because it was in their interests to do so. Kinship meant a lot but it wasn’t everything.
When their wheelhouse finally arrived at the Mootons’ castle within Maidenpool, Daella got out from the wheelhouse alongside the other ladies and children of the family. Outside, their men were waiting to escort them, her darling husband Jasper as well as her goodson Aegor and her granddaughter’s husband Leowyn Corbray.
As they walked up to the entrance to the main hall, they were greeted by her younger sister Saera and their shared second grandson Aelyx Mooton and his wife Talise Qoherys. Her younger nephew Maegon, his wife Johanna Swann, and all of their children were present as well, having made the long trip from the Stepstones for the funeral. All of the aforementioned were accompanied by a host of servants and guards, all of whom knelt while the Mootons bowed as Aegor approached.
“My lord,” Saera began. “We welcome you back home and hail you as the new Lord Mooton.”
Her goodson approached his mother. “It is good to be home!” he said aloud to all his kin and servants in the yard. I only wish it was for a happier reason. Rise Mother,” he ordered and when Saera did so he embraced her filially with a hug and a kiss to the cheek.
The feast they had after that was a joyous occasion and reunion for their family. While Daella and Saera had never gotten along, their animosity had not been shared by their husbands or children fortunately or this whole alliance would have been quite dead in the water before it had even set sail.
Seeing no reason to delay even further, they had the funeral for Jonah the next morning, following the traditional Mooton funeral rites. After that, Aegor and Aemma had gone off to see to matters befitting the Lord and Lady of Maidenpool while Jasper, ever the enthusiastic knight even in his old age, had decided to watch Maegon, Aelor, Aelyx, and the others in training yard. The children were with the maids and the women of the house had planned to gather in one of the castle’s rooms for tea and conversation.
Liking to be punctual, Daella had arrived at the tea room several minutes earlier than their agreed meeting time. Which was why she was a little surprised to see that she was not alone. Somehow or another, Saera and her were alone in the same room, something that their families had always taken steps to avoid knowing their strong dislike for each other.
Nonetheless, Daella would not be cowed. She was sixty and six years old, not a scared little girl of ten being bullied by her younger sister. She closed the door behind her and took the seat at the other end of the table from where Saera had claimed the head for herself.
“So far away dear sister?” Saera asked in the acerbic tone that she had grown to loath years ago.
“The further we are away from each other until the others come, the better I think,” Daella responded in kind.
Saera snorted. “You are not wrong.”
They fell into an awkward silence after that, both of them avoiding the other’s eyes. Inevitably however, despite her intentions to ignore Saera, she could not help but observe her. Her wicked humor appeared as dry as ever and her tongue as sharp as usual but animosity or not, Saera was her sister and Daella could tell that she was a little more subdued today than she was normally.
She supposed that even Saera must have been feeling a little down given the ceremony they had just attended earlier that day. Still Daella didn’t know what possessed her to ask, “Are you well?”
Saera looked as surprised as Daella felt by the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked defensively.
“We just attended your husband’s funeral,” Daella clarified.
Saera sneered. “Whether I am well or not is no business of yours Daella and I would thank you not to pry.”
Daella glared at her. She couldn’t believe she had been feeling sorry for this hag. She didn’t even deign her sister’s dripping venom with a reply, simply turning her head to continue ignoring her.
However, it wasn’t long before Saera reluctantly sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I’m unused to showing my vulnerabilities to anyone, least of all you. For what it’s worth I do appreciate the concern though.”
Daella was rather pleasantly surprised. This was rather new to her. “You know; I think that might be the first time you’ve ever apologized to me of your own volition.”
Saera scoffed lightly. “Yeah. Probably.”
“It feels so pathetic looking back doesn’t it? How immature and stupid we were in our own ways. How pointless holding on to all of this was,” Daella said.
Her sister looked thoughtful. “In a way I suppose. We were stupid children but the grievances of your youth can plague you your entire life and it seems that we share holding grudges in common.”
At that Daella had no answer and it was not long before the awkward silence returned. Daella didn’t know what to speak about that would be a safe topic in any way, but it seems that she didn’t have to.
“My first apology,” Saera began with a soft sigh. “Would you believe me, if I told you that I have been considering apologizing to you, for everything, for years now?”
Now that truly shocked Daella. “Since when?” she demanded, aghast.
“Since 90, when Father called us all back to support his little witch hunt against Viserra.”
“That was almost forty years ago and if I recall, you were quite horrid to me at that reunion as well. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Would you have believed me if I did? I fell back into old habits and to be completely honest I hadn’t completely gotten over it myself. It took years before I could look back and realize the extent of how terrible I was and several years more until I had swallowed enough of my pride to admit it but here I am at last. I am sorry Daella, for everything.”
Daella scoffed. “I wanted an apology from you for so long. For years I fantasized of you being overcome with guilt and crying and I would have the power to choose to crush your little black heart like you crushed mine for so long or prove just how much better than you I was by giving you forgiveness, but this feels rather… anticlimactic.”
Saera smirked. “Sorry to disappoint dear sister, but you are not ever going to see me crying or guilty and whether you forgive me or not doesn’t matter to me.”
Daella shook her head. “Whatever. I’ll take what I can get at least. And that reminds me, you didn’t answer the question. How are you doing now that Jonah has been laid to rest permanently?”
Saera’s smug smirk faded away. “Well enough I guess. We were never in love, not like you and your darling Jasper,” she couldn’t quite keep the mocking tone out of her voice as she spoke those last two words but it faded away as she continued, “but he was the father of my sons, my friend and my partner for nigh on fifty years and that, that means something. His death wasn’t unexpected, he was old, a little fat, nowhere near as healthy and hale as Jasper is, but it does feel rather strange and empty without him. Still if you actually care, which I doubt, fret not. I will be just fine now that Aegor has returned to Maidenpool from the Vale, and of course young Aelyx is as much a son to me as his father is.”
“I confess, I’m rather surprised at how much you’ve been willing to delegate governance to Aegor and Aelyx. It is no secret that you not Jonah have been the true ruler of Maidenpool ever since he became Lord. I never expected you to be one to give up power so easily Saera,” Daella said.
“Aegor and Aelyx are far more clever and competent than Jonah was, they got it from me after all, so I do feel rather safe delegating it to them. Besides, I am old and it is not my time to rule anymore. It is Aegor’s now, though I suspect that as long as I live he and Aelyx will continue to seek out my advice so it is not like I have given up all my influence either. Maidenpool remembers who it was that gave them such prosperity and even Aegor would find it troublesome should he ignore my advice.”
Daella couldn’t help but chuckle. “Cunning as ever.”
Saera’s smirk was back. “Indeed. Of course, your girl might be able to challenge my sway over Aegor and Aelyx. Dastardly clever that one, she’d make a fine consort for my son and a finer Lady of the Eyrie when the time comes. She certainly couldn’t have gotten it from you,” she poked.
It seemed that even now Saera could not resist needling her. Not that Daella cared. “You are right,” she agreed. “Aemma is clever, charming, and with quite the head for politics. All of that she got from Jasper. I’m far too stupid to have any of those traits,” she mused self-depreciatingly.
“Whether we like it or not, the destinies of our bloodlines and families were intertwined long ago and it is quite promising if I do say so myself. My son and your daughter are a fine match and they gave us a fine trio of grandchildren already hard at work on the generation after them as well. Our alliance has proved fruitful and mutually beneficial and I foresee it remaining that way for many more decades to come. Now if only we didn’t have pretentious Royces, opportunistic Graftons, and insufferable Celtigars to deal with and everything would be just perfect.”
“On that topic, I find myself rather… curious,” Daella said. “I have heard rumors that your second son Maegon has been making himself comfortable with the Velaryons and there are whispers that betrothals between his children and scions of Velaryon Minor might soon be announced.”
“What of it?” Saera asked, though there was a challenge in her eyes, the purple eyes they shared.
“Are the rumors true? What do you think of them?” she asked.
To her surprise Saera was completely relaxed as she leaned back in her seat and answered. “They are. As for what I think of them? Maegon wrote letters to me, secret correspondence of course, asking for my permission and I granted it. I’m quite proud of him honestly.”
Daella was veritably confused. “You speak against the Royces, Graftons, and Celtigars that challenge both of our houses but your son falling in bed with the Velaryons who back those three nuisances merits your approval?”
“Of course it does. The world is not black and white Daella. It is not so simple and clear cut. While it is undoubtedly in our interests to oppose the Royces, Graftons, and Celtigars and thus by extension their sponsor, House Velaryon, Maegon is not in the same position that we are.
“Grey Gallows and Scarwood are awfully close to Tyrosh. If the Velaryons take the Stepstones, Maegon reminding them before the fact that he is their close kin and taking steps to show his implicit support of their cause would only increase the chances that he and his family are left with status of some kind in the Velaryon realm, even if they are no longer lords in the traditional sense that we know in Westeros. The peerage they have over there is an interesting concept though one I dearly hope is never imported here.
“Considering the convoluted web of alliances, rivalries, and family ties that bind us, the Starks, the Targaryens, the Velaryons, and even the aforementioned three nuisances all together, I can hardly blame my son for looking out for what is best for himself, his wife, and their children first and foremost. He is following exactly what I taught him growing up, your loyalty is to your immediate family and yourself first and foremost and nothing is beneath you to benefit those interests, not even playing both sides or defecting to the enemy.”
“The whor* of Maidenpool proves her reputation true yet again,” Daella mocked, remembering the name Saera had been given once her duplicity in accepting Targaryen favor but also trading with the Velaryons during their father’s sanctions on them had come to light. Something she was still surprised she had gotten away with but she supposed Aemon hadn’t cared by that point.
Saera sarcastically laughed. “Very funny.”
“Do you think they will? The Velaryons that is. Take the Stepstones.” Daella asked suddenly, the thought having taken hold of her.
Saera looked pensive. “War is… imminent. You and I both know it. We saw it for ourselves the last time the whole extended family gathered. The distrust, the dislike, the hatred between the Targaryens and Velaryons. War will happen once Rhaenys ascends the Iron Throne and Aemon is already the same age our father was when he died. He does not have many years left to live.”
“Who do you think will win?” she asked.
“Ideally? Neither. A stalemate. One in which the Velaryons are kicked out of Westeros and their little nuisances with them but the Targaryens are weakened and unable to continue their slow march to undermine the powers and privileges of the nobility in Westeros just so they can copy the Velaryons and pretend they are as advanced as them. Whether we will be so fortunate as to have that ideal future though, I cannot say. We shall have to wait and see.
“The war will be a good excuse for us to rid ourselves of the Royces, Graftons, and Celtigars, and if we are lucky, maybe even add some if not all of their domains to ours but when it comes to the dragons, we have absolutely no control over anything there. At face value the Targaryens will win, but the Velaryons know that as well. I’m sure they have something up their sleeve.”
“You hate that don’t you? Not having any control,” Daella observed, noticing the dark tone in her sister’s voice when she had spoken of the dragons.
“Yes,” Saera almost hissed. “I know that there’s almost no chance that either of our houses can get dragons but I understand why our husbands had hoped there would be. I wish there was. I hate this feeling of powerlessness and obscurity before those of our kin who have them.”
“I never wished for a dragon of my own, but I don’t disagree,” Daella said. “The only thing we can do now is hope that all goes well I suppose.”
“I’ve never been one to trust in hope. I calculate, I use logic to ascertain the situation and predict outcomes and chart the best course for my house. Hope is fickle, unreliable, it’s almost as bad as putting your trust in chance,” Saera remarked.
“You don’t have a choice this time,” Daella said drily. “None of us do.”
__________________________________________________
The Lord of Highwatch
The Great Tourney of Lannisport in the year 130 AC. Ostensibly a great tourney thrown to show off the greatly increased wealth and power of House Lannister, a product of the success of their trade routes in bringing in more money and the University of Lannisport in advancing technologies and methodologies. In secret however, it also served as the perfect cover for a gathering of the inner circle of the western alliance.
While many houses such as Mallister, Bracken, Marbrand, Farman, Reyne, Crakehall, Oakheart, Hewett, Florent, and the like were all part of the informal coalition in the royal court of houses trading with each other on the western coasts and regions of the realm, the inner circle of the alliance remained its three founders and most powerful members. House Hightower, Redwyne, and Lannister. And naturally this also included the cadet branches the three houses had sent to the Stepstones forty years ago.
Otto was the head of one of those cadet branches. House Hightower of Highwatch and the smaller islands of Tor and Felstrong. He had also served as the Governor of the Stepstones for thirty years, an immensely stressful position that he had been very happy to finally relinquish to his goodson Tyland Lannister when he had reached his fiftieth nameday in 118 AC.
And so for the past twelve years, Otto had ruled solely as the Lord of Highwatch, a much more enjoyable role than the thankless and tiresome position of Governor of the Stepstones. Yet, as the reason for the meeting made clear, one that may soon be in jeopardy.
Otto looked around the room, noticing that he was the eldest in the room, and what a sobering thought that was. Tymond Lannister had passed away long ago, and now left behind were his twin sons, Jason, the Lord of Casterly Rock, and Tyland, Lord of Guardian and Governor of the Stepstones. Robert and Rickard Redwyne and their sons had died, leaving their grandsons Runceford, Ryon, and Rickon to rule the Arbor and Redwater. And of course, Otto’s own dearly departed elder brother Hobert had died some seven years earlier, leaving his nephew Ormund as the Lord of Oldtown.
He had been pleased to stop by at Oldtown and see how much the city had grown and prospered when they had made their journey by ship to Lannisport from the Stepstones, but the city felt foreign and strange to him now after four decades living away from it. And knowing that the Maesters and the Faith were no longer headquartered in the Citadel and Starry Sept had lessened the city’s glory and beauty he couldn’t help but feel. It was just one of many things that had changed in the past few decades, one of the many challenges their alliance faced in an increasingly dangerous world.
Jason Lannister, their host, and a showman if there ever was one, began to speak. “My lords, thank you all for coming to this meeting. I hope it is understood that everything discussed within this room is confidential and private. We are all loyal servants of the Iron Throne of course, but we will not mince words either.”
Everyone agreed to that condition and they all swore an oath of secrecy to the Seven before the meeting began in earnest. Otto’s goodson Tyland took the speaking role then. “The primary reason for this reunion and meeting, is the growing certainty that some if not all individuals present have that war between the Targaryens and Velaryons will take place within the next five years at the very latest, if not sooner.
“As the Governor of the Stepstones, I think I am uniquely qualified to speak on why I believe this is so. Tyrosh and the Velaryon Triarchy are very close to us and the Velaryon Army and Navy are terrifyingly strong. If it wasn’t for the state of peace, I would dare say the way they have been positioned at Tyrosh, Lys, and the mainland Heel would allow them to launch a quick invasion to conquer the Stepstones within only a few short months at most and that is without the Velaryons’ dragons.
“Thankfully Prince Daemon and his family’s presence in Dorne have deterred Velaryon aggression but it has not stopped many of the lords of the Stepstones from trying to appease the Velaryons or to build relations with them. The prime example of this is Lord Maegon Mooton of Grey Gallows and his wife Lady Johanna Swann of Scarwood.”
“The whor* of Maidenpool’s son? He must have learned from his mother,” Ormund japed.
“Indeed Lord Ormund,” Tyland said with a charming smile. “Through their mothers, Maegon is also the first cousin of Jacaerys Velaryon and his siblings and he has been rather unsubtly reminding them of that fact, making supposed business trips to Tyrosh and Myr and meeting with them. There are also whispers that he seeks to betroth at least one if not all of his children to lesser members of House Velaryon.”
Jason stroked his chin. “He’s trying to make a place for himself within the Velaryon realm in the event that they conquer the Stepstones. Likely hoping to be made one of those toothless ‘peers’ they have.”
“That was mine and Lord Otto’s assessment as well yes,” Tyland said, nodding to Otto. “He’s not alone. Lord Steffon Darklyn of Dustspear and Lord Marlon Manderly of Serpentholm are also attempting to do the same, though to much more mixed success. It seems kinship with House Velaryon does come with its own advantages.”
Jason snorted. “The Targaryens don’t seem to think so.”
“Ties of kinship are the sole reason why the Targaryens and Velaryons didn’t go to war forty or even twenty years ago. Now they are strained to the breaking point. When King Aemon dies, there will be war in the Narrow and Summer Seas. Already we hear of the Velaryon traders and ships clashing with our South Sea Company in the Summer Isles. King Aemon can no longer keep the peace in his old age and senility, I expect that he will die within three years, or sooner,” Otto observed.
“We have requested this meeting brother,” Tyland began, “that is myself, Lord Otto, and Lord Rickon, because our houses stand to lose very much in the war against the Velaryons. Even if the Targaryens emerge victorious, the Stepstones and the Summer Islands are sure to see much fighting and devastation. We would like to request, that if we are captured or escape, would we have ransom or refuge from all of you back home in Westeros?”
“Of course,” Jason said with a disarming smile. “I am sure Lord Ormund and Lord Runceford would concur?”
They nodded and it took a weight off Otto’s shoulders to know that their kin still had their back no matter how distant that kinship had become in recent years.
“Still all this talk of war concerns me,” Jason said worriedly.
Rickon Redwyne spoke up then. “As far as I see it, there are three generally likely outcomes of the war, in relation to our houses. One, the Velaryons are soundly defeated, they may have more dragons than the Targaryens but theirs are still significantly smaller. Nonetheless this scenario will likely still see the Stepstones and Summer Isles ravaged and our interests in those regions greatly damaged.
“Two, the Velaryons and the Targaryens stalemate, likely with the Targaryens taking Driftmark and Massey’s Hook but losing the Stepstones and possibly even the Summer Isles in the process, which would be disastrous for our houses and our shared South Sea Company.
“And third and lastly, the Velaryons destroy the Targaryens and usurp the Iron Throne. This is the most nightmarish scenario and we could lose even our ancestral homes in that scenario should the Velaryons prove vindictive. At the bare minimum they would greatly curtail our powers and privileges, if not reduce us to being mere ‘peers’.”
“Is there really much that we can do against the power of dragons though? What does all our wealth and armies matter in the face of such wanton destruction?” Jason asked.
“The only thing we can do is give those wealth and armies to the Targaryens, give them our full support, and hope that they succeed in crushing the Velaryon menace once and for all,” Lord Runceford Redwyne said.
At that, Otto interjected. “I would advise against putting so much faith in the Targaryens. It was before your time, all of you, but I still remember well how they sent me against the Velaryons in the Stepstones Crisis of 94 AC and failed to support me properly in anyway. The then Prince of Dragonstone, our illustrious King Aemon, even had the audacity to lecture me for following his own father’s orders afterward.
“How many other times have they disrespected us and expected us to just swallow it? The Targaryens are unreliable and untrustworthy overlords. Their success is not necessarily to our benefit. Any fiefs or favors they give for our loyalty are but poisoned chalices at best, and that is when they deign to grant them to begin with. I have not forgotten how our alliance was snubbed for the Governorate of the Summer Isles for some promiscuous local heathen and neither should any of you. Thank the Seven we at least maintained our economic influence over the region after that absurdity.
“No. It should be clear as day to all of us already. The Targaryens are the lesser of two evils that we must contend with, not a good that we could support without reservation. I would not put it past them to sacrifice us as nothing more than pawns or catspaws if it would benefit them.”
“Then what are we to do? We are caught between two dragonlord houses. Can we do nothing but tremble in fear when they go to war and bring devastation and destruction in their wake? Say our prayers and hope for the best?” Runceford said mockingly.
“Hah. Prayers? The Targaryens have showed us the worth of our prayers. They have twisted and corrupted the Faith of the Seven, using it as a tool of their control to excommunicate anyone who steps out of line in any way. I have no love for the Dornish, but the idea that anyone could be excommunicated and denied the seven heavens simply for opposing the Targaryens is something I dislike greatly,” Ormund said darkly.
“The Targaryens are proving to be increasingly tyrannical,” Jason noted reluctantly, as if fearing that such treasonous talk could get him executed, though Otto doubted anyone present would reveal his secret words when they had all said something similar and could bring each other all down with them.
“It is clear that they are trying to copy what the Velaryons have accomplished in their Triarchy here in Westeros, out of some misguided jealousy or pride. Whatever the reason, they are becoming more domineering, more controlling, more blatantly power hungry. The subtleties and niceties of Jaehaerys’ reign are long gone. The Targaryens no longer request, they demand,” Ormund said, becoming bolder.
“Is it not the lesser evil as my goodfather said though?” Tyland interrupted. “The Targaryens may be tomorrow’s tyrant but the Velaryons are today’s invader.”
“Perhaps,” Ormund conceded. “If only the damn dragons could all kill each other and rid us of their tyranny.”
“That would be the ideal scenario, or one as close to that as possible, for House Targaryen and House Velaryon to so greatly weaken each other that we will remain in a strong position either way, but we cannot trust in that coming to pass for sure,” Otto said. “We need a contingency plan, a way to remain influential and powerful even in the face of Targaryen tyranny or Velaryon viciousness. A way to survive the increasing growth of royal power in Westeros and the potential loss of the Summer Isles and Stepstones to the Velaryons.”
“The west then,” Ryon Redwyne said. He was the first cousin of Lord Runceford and the second cousin of Lord Rickon.
“We are in the West,” Lord Jason stated, with some confusion.
“Forgive me Lord Lannister,” Ser Ryon said humbly. “I meant even further west. Across the Sunset Sea. As the chief admiral of the Redwyne Fleet, the sea has always called to me and despite him being our enemy, the voyages of the Sea Snake are inspiring, and a potential lesson to learn.
“I propose, that in light of our advanced technologies and methods and new ships, that we attempt to explore the Sunset Sea. Who knows what untold riches and vast new lands might lie within or even beyond it. It could be something that could replace the Summer Isles and the Stepstones for our three houses.”
“You intend to follow in the footsteps of Elissa Farman?” Otto asked curiously.
Ser Ryon smiled. “Unlike ‘Alys Westhill’, I intend to return home alive to Westeros and report on my findings. Certainly my ships and navigational devices and methods are far superior to anything Elissa Farman had. Even she had some success discovering the little Conqueror Islands to the southwest of Oldtown, the furthest west location in the entire Known World, further even than Lonely Light.
“I would propose that we set up outposts there and on Lonely Light and send ships to explore the depths of the Sunset Sea. I also intend to lead many of these voyages and expeditions myself. Who knows, perhaps I might be the first to sail to the ends of the world and discover once and for all if the world is truly round as the Maesters say or flat like the smallfolk’s superstitions.”
Otto turned to his fellow lords. “Your thoughts?”
They all looked interested though a little worried. “Many have tried exploring the Sunset Sea before. None ever returned once they sailed too far into it,” Lord Jason pointed out.
“If we always fear what happened in the past, we can never look to the future. As I said, our ships and navigation is far superior to any previous explorers,” Ser Ryon countered.
Ormund looked thoughtful however. “I could easily see any potential new lands having exotic civilizations and goods to trade with, perhaps also virgin lands unsettled by any men. It might be a refuge for us should the Targaryens prove too tyrannical and if not, it would at least serve as a way to recoup the losses of the Stepstones and the Summer Isles, and if not even that, surely what is the harm in finding new ways to prosper?”
“Lord Runceford? You are Ser Ryon’s liege after all and your fleet remains the largest of our houses even now. What say you?” Otto asked.
The man looked at his hopeful cousin and then to the rest of them before sighing and answering. “I am willing to support this venture, but not alone. If we are to share in the bounties of these new lands together, then we shall all contribute equally to the effort in finding them, be it in ships or funding.”
“Very well,” Lord Jason replied.
“I accept those terms,” Lord Ormund concurred.
“As for the rest of you in the Stepstones,” Lord Runceford said, addressing Otto himself, Lord Rickon, and Lord Tyland, “I would advise all of you to make preparations for the upcoming war. Be it to move your valuables or family members back to your ancestral homes in the west or to invest in Ser Ryon’s voyages as that may be how any of you remain landed should the worst come to pass and the Stepstones are lost forever.”
“I thank you for the advice Lord Runceford. I am sure that myself and my fellow Stepstones lords and the esteemed Governor will consider the matter carefully,” Otto said neutrally.
He really was too old to be worrying about things like this and moving things here, there, and everywhere. But he wanted to give an inheritance to his sons, no matter how small, and if they lost Highwatch, he would ensure they wouldn’t be left beggars at the very least. It seemed he would need to be opening some accounts in the Bank of Oldtown when he passed by the city on the way back to the Stepstones.
As the meeting continued and the other lords hemmed and hawed over the details of Ser Ryon’s voyages, and spoke on various other topics, Otto’s mind drifted to the upcoming war. Lord Jason had been right indeed, a war between dragonlords was terrifying to even imagine and he would be on the frontlines of such a war.
He had seen for himself all those years ago, the cold and callous eyes of Viserra Velaryon, the ruthless and uncaring way her father and brother had used him as a pawn, a tool to handle all the tedious and dirty work of the Stepstones and then thrown him away when it was convenient. The dragonlords thought nothing of lesser men like them. They were just cattle, to be ruled and herded and slaughtered on a whim.
When the Targaryens and Velaryons went to war, Otto could foresee the Summer Isles, the Stepstones, the Triarchy, the Stormlands, and Dorne all going up in flames, armies and fleets invading and ravaging, dragons desolating and destroying. So much death...what could men like them do against such reckless hate?
